


Cold, Erased

by privateerwrites



Series: Musketeer March 2021 [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privateerwrites/pseuds/privateerwrites
Summary: Aramis loved winter when he was a kid, but now that he's older, he hates it. Athos and Porthos know this, and they keep him warm and safe. Ft hot cocoa and HotHands!
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Athos | Comte de la Fère/Porthos du Vallon
Series: Musketeer March 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188632
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Cold, Erased

**Author's Note:**

> Wheee day 2!!! This prompt was ice/cold (Musketeer March Day 2)!
> 
> It's sort of a reincarnation au, but that's only kinda there a little bit.
> 
> Porthos' texts are in italics, Athos' are in bold, and Aramis' are underlined.

When he was little, Aramis loved the snow. He played in it with abandon and joy, and his mother said it was like magic.  
  
Aramis is 25 now, no longer a little kid, and he hates the cold. It makes him tired and anxious in the worst ways, and he despises that. He's sitting in the grad office in the basement of the science building, surrounded by warmth and lighting and concrete and stuffed birds from the 50s when he gets the text from Porthos.  
  
_I'm picking you up from the office_ , it reads. It's in the group chat, the one that's him and Porthos and Athos, and a second one pops in before Aramis can respond to the first.  
  
**Good idea** , Athos' text says. **I'll come too, so long as you stop at the store.**   
  
_Done_ , says Porthos.  
  
I suppose that I don't get a say?, Aramis types, a little confused as to their behavior but glad for the guarantee of company anyway.  
  
_Nope_ and **No** come in at the same time and Aramis huffs out a small laugh before responding.  
  
Lovely, he says. I'll expect you in 15 then?  
  
_omw_ , Porthos sends, and Aramis shuts off his phone and starts packing up. He saves the draft of his thesis and shuts down his laptop, softly closing the lid so that it doesn't damage the computer- it's been with him for years, and if he's not careful, it'll refuse to work due to age if he does something wrong.  
  
He's just pulling on his jacket when Porthos walks through the door and grabs his backpack off of the chair.  
  
"C'mon," he says, his voice warm and inviting. Aramis tucks himself under Porthos' arm, Porthos' down jacket pressing against his own. Porthos pulls a hat over Aramis' head, one that Aramis is pretty sure Athos knitted for him for Christmas, and Aramis would complain, except for that it happens just as they step outside onto the loading dock and the wave of frigid air slams into him, shocking his lungs as he breathes in sharply.  
  
His feet almost go out beneath him when he steps on a patch of ice, but a warm hand presses itself to his back and a voice curls around his ear, repeating his name gently, grounding him and supporting him and keeping him together.  
  
"Aramis, Aramis, Aramis, Aramis, Aramis," over and over, like it's some sort of chant. Another arm wraps under his shoulders and lifts him up, gliding him over another patch of ice. Aramis keeps his eyes on the gravel and rocks on the ground that make up the driveway, and the arm around his ribcage steers him towards Porthos' truck.  
  
When he finally slides into the backseat, he's shivering. It hits him, then, that he'd left his scarf at home and that his gloves are still in the pocket of his coat and that the nightmare he's had ever since he turned 18 is slowly starting to creep into his head. It's not really bad, not yet, just invading enough that the fact that he doesn't want to be left alone out here makes up the majority of his thoughts.  
  
The heating in Porthos' truck is helping, and when Athos finally finishes kicking the snow off of his boots and sits down in the front, he cranks the heat way up, and Aramis is blasted with heat and the lingering smell of the system pushing into gear.  
  
Porthos puts on a CD that he made when they all started living together, three years ago now. It's a collection of their favorite songs at the time, and it always makes Aramis feel a little better. The opening chords of Shut Up and Dance ring through the vehicle, and Aramis brightens up, the thoughts of abandonment no longer able to be quite as loud.  
  
The familiar music isn't quite enough to drag him back from the edges of dream-memory, not quite enough to erase the feeling of _alone alone alone hurt alone alone alone_ , but even if he can't get rid of the feeling wholly, maybe it's enough.  
  
He waits in the car with Porthos while Athos does some brief shopping for... something, Aramis isn't quite sure. He reaches forward across the center console, and grabs Porthos' hand. It's warm, radiating heat, and he links their fingers.  
  
"Thank you," he says softly.  
  
"O' course," Porthos says, and lifts his hand to his lips, kissing it gently.  
  
Athos chooses that moment to return. He hurls a bright orange package at Aramis, and it takes a moment for Aramis to register what it is.  
  
"HotHands?"  
  
"You're out," Athos says flatly.  
  
Getting out of the truck when they get home might actually be more of a herculean effort than getting into it. It's warm, and Aramis is really, really cozy. Walking out of the building, he'd been so focused on other things that temperature wasn't really registering. Now, though, he's thinking about the ice and cold and snow and trying not to think about that dream, and he doesn't want to get out.  
  
"C'mon, 'Mis," Porthos says gently from the doorway. Aramis sighs and reaches his arms out, and yes, he's being a bit petulant. He's expecting Porthos to grab one of his arms and pull him out of the truck. Instead, he picks Aramis up, tosses his legs over his arm, and carries him bridal style.  
  
Aramis tucks his face into Porthos' neck, currently wrapped in a scarf that Athos knitted him last week, and laughs, bright and loud. Porthos chuckles a little, and Aramis can feel the vibrations in his chest. Porthos sets him down carefully when they get in the house and pulls his snow-covered coat off for him.  
  
"There you are, love. Better?"  
  
Aramis nods and smiles. "Thank you," he says again. "Thank you both."  
  
The microwave beeps, and suddenly Athos is there, kissing the top of his head and pressing a mug into his hands.  
  
"Hot cocoa," Athos says in answer to Aramis' questioning look.  
  
"I love you," Aramis breathes out in a rush.  
  
"We love you too," Athos softly tells him, and that is that.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! If tumblr is more your thing, I'm also over there at privateerstudies!


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